


Run into Me

by musiclily88



Series: Wasted Youth// There Wasn't Much to Waste [32]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, F/F, Gen, Lots of dialogue, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Stupid Boys being Stupid, previous tags apply
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:27:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3154010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musiclily88/pseuds/musiclily88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this an intervention?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Run into Me

**Author's Note:**

> How is this 32 chapters, you all. How. I have lost the plot of my own life and instead poured my entire soul into this monstrosity. I am a DISASTER PERSON. This is a DISASTER CHAPTER. I recently had a FULL ON MENTAL BREAKDOWN please forgive my DISGUSTING SELF.
> 
> As ever, I’m just basing this story on very tiny bits of the public personas of famous people. Clearly this is fake.
> 
> Also I made another mix for this story, link in the end note.

Louis ached all over, but he got out of bed and changed into a pair of faded sweats and a thin shirt, things he’d had for years. He brushed his teeth and flicked water on his face, not daring to look into the mirror. His limbs felt hollow and disgusting, like the alcohol had soaked in hard.

He trudged down the stairs and into the kitchen, where his mum handed him tea before he sat down at the table where Liam, Harry, Zayn, and, inexplicably, Niall were seated.

“They pulled you into this too?” Louis asked gruffly, his voice still scratchy from sleep.

“They were worried.” Niall’s face was soft, not holding the wild energy and laughter it usually did. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“Okay.” Louis shrugged, taking a sip of his tea. He turned to watch his mother fix herself a mug before she walked over to the table. She ruffled his hair a bit, face shuttered of emotion.

“You want me to stay, love?” she asked, eyes cautious.

“No, that’s all right. I’ll find you after.” Louis’ emotions caught in his throat like he would never be able to choke them all the way down.

Harry poked at his hair, almost dislodging the scarf tied tight around his crown. Zayn watched him a bit fondly, his own hair teased forwardly as if to look casual and lazy, which wasn’t reality or even close to it. Liam alternated between a pinched-cheek grimace and a small smile, as if trying to calm himself down and failing. Niall looked wan and on-guard.

 

Their group sat in silence for nearly five minutes, each of them drinking tea tensely. Louis watched Harry and Zayn have multiple conversations with just their eyes until Harry huffed, getting to his feet.

“I’m sorry, Louis.” He stood behind Louis’ pushed-back chair, hands clasped tight on the back of it.

“All right,” Louis agreed readily, taking another sip of his tea while it was still hot. He saw Harry shoot Zayn a dark glance. 

Zayn gulped and nodded. “I’m really sorry, too. Half of what I was saying wasn’t even about you, it was my own shit coming up. Just like, lashing out.”

“Your own shit?”

“Yeah, bebs. I’m sorry. I really am.” Zayn worried at his bottom lip with his top teeth, eyes downcast.

“What shit, though?”

Liam cleared his throat. “Uh. I’m not sure this is the time?”

Zayn sighed, ducking his chin. “I dunno how to put it into words anyway.”

“We can talk about it later,” Louis said, shoulders sagging.

“Lou.” Liam was looking at him searchingly, his brows drawn in. “Are you okay? Really?”

“I’m just—so fucking tired.” He scrubbed his face with one hand. “It doesn’t go away. Any of it.”

“This isn’t, like, an intervention or anything,” Liam added softly. “We just wanted to be here, like, for you. Because we sort of caused that flipout. Or whatever.”

“Not directly.”

“I badgered you,” Zayn admitted. “I did.”

“I _was_ jealous, though. So it’s not like it’s your fault.”

“You were?” Harry asked.

“Sure. Tried to tamp it down but I don’t do that very well, do I? With anything.”

“Lou.” Louis finally glanced up at Harry, whose eyes were wet.

“What?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault, is it.”

“I’m sorry for my part in it.”

Louis raised a brow, giving a pointed look to Zayn. “If only we all felt that way.”

“I said I was sorry!” Zayn’s eyes were wild.

“Yeah. You _said_ it.”

“Christ, Louis, what’s your issue?”

“Mine?” Louis licked his bottom lip. “What’s yours? What made it okay for you to attack me when all I did was walk into Harry’s flat with shitty takeaway?”

Zayn sighed, slumping back into his chair. “God.”

“Yeah. Sounds bad when I say it that way, doesn’t it? Rather than the filtered, rationalized way you put it into your own head, eh?”

“You _are_ a dick, you know, even if you don’t deserve—you know.”

“Well.” Louis sighed. “You antagonize me.”

“That’s our M.O., though. So I took it too far, fine. Whatever.” Zayn leaned back, shutting his eyes for a moment. Then he got to his feet and walked to the wine fridge without comment. After pulling out a half-full bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, he returned to the table and sat down. He pulled the cork out and drank straight from the bottle before swiping at his mouth messily “Tea isn’t really strong enough for this conversation,” he explained belatedly, meeting Louis’ bemused glance.

Niall rolled his eyes. “Even I have to admit that gesture’s a bit dramatic, mate.”

“Are you, like, refereeing this charade?” Louis asked him, genuinely curious. “If so, you’re doing a shit job, mate.”

“I’m honestly just here because the rest of these clowns can’t keep their tempers under control. And because now I’m worried too, to be honest.”

“Right. So this is an intervention.”

“I have no fecking clue what this is, actually, all I know is all of these arseholes need to apologize.” Niall shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

Louis raised a brow, turning to look at Liam. “Even you?”

“Sorry, Lou. I got—a little carried away. Trying to, like, fix it.” Liam sighed.

“Trying to defend me.”

“Yeah.”

“I appreciate what you were trying to do, I guess. But it’s like—coming from a weird place. And it’s kind of fucking with me. Everything’s kind of fucking with me.”

“I’m sorry. I really am,” Liam said.

“Thanks?” Louis exhaled sharply and fell back in his chair. “Whatever, I’m not fucking blameless in this situation, right? I’ve apparently pitted you all against one another and fucked with your heads to the extent you’ll destroy yourselves and me just to get a second of attention.” He turned to glare at Harry. “Or is that not what you were saying?”

Harry set his jaw, eyes flashing. “Fuck you.”

Louis gave him a hard smirk. “Have at it.”

“Stop dicking with me! You’re doing this on purpose, I swear to god.”

Louis’ cheeks went flushed and warm. “I—I tried to back off, of all of this, tried to not fuck you around or even fuck you, Christ. And apparently that gets taken for me being a goddamn tease or something! Nothing is ever enough!” Louis blew up at his fringe. “Even me being a good friend is taken as some sort of offense.”

“Are you a good friend, then?” Zayn sneered before taking another pull of wine.

“Better than you,” Louis said with a triumphant smile, finally knowing, _knowing_ he’d managed to eke out an absolute truth of some sort. He tired to cling to that fact for all he was worth.

“Sure, fine.” Zayn rolled his eyes. “You’re the king of the fucking universe. I can’t even believe we’re all here, doing this. You realize this is insane, right? This fucking convention of good feelings and apologies?”

“Goodness! You’re awfully defensive for someone who triggered a PTSD flashback not even twenty-four hours ago,” Louis put out easily, eyes bright.

Zayn blanched, huffing out a heavy breath. “Fuck you.”

“What the fuck is this, though? What is your issue with me? If it’s gonna keep coming up, you might as well just fucking say it in front of the rest of them, not try to drag it out and act like a shit. This is the time and this is the place. Air your fucking grievances.”

Zany’s nostrils flared. “How do you fucking get away with it? I don’t get it. You just get to do whatever you want and fuck whomever you want, and no one minds. No one breaks it off and no one fucking calls you out on anything. You just—get to keep going with it, doing whatever and everyone. It’s not fucking fair!”

Louis heaved a sigh. “You’re mad at me because you want to _be_ me? You’re a dumb piece of shit, in that case. Everyone has a problem with me, with everything I do. Every moment of every day. I don’t get away with a goddamn thing, and you’re not the only one making sure of it, okay? You don’t want to be me. You just want to, what, be polyamorous? Without anyone bitching? Big fucking deal.”

“What the _fuck.”_ Harry’s eyes went wide and panicked, his mouth falling open.

“No, let’s. I’m not capable of loving anyone in any kind of functional, normal, healthy way, okay, and it’s not a fucking good thing. Okay? You don’t want this. You don’t want to be this. No one wants my mood swings and flashbacks and my weird fucking habits. You just want the easy bits.” Louis growled, then, yanking his hair in his hands roughly.

“I’m sorry, did you just call me _easy?”_ Liam asked with an amused, if stiff, tilt of his lips. 

“Well at least you find this funny,” Zayn muttered, rolling his eyes yet again.

“Well yeah. This whole thing is fucking absurd, innit?” Liam offered. “It’s basically an intervention and an apology all wrapped up in one. Kinda stupid, this whole thing.”

Louis thought that was, maybe, one of the wiser things Liam had ever said, while the back of his head reminded him that Liam had actually been the one to trigger the horrible chundering scene in the first place. So, on the whole, he stayed quiet.

“It’s kinda—selfish, even. Like, what the fuck are we doing here, really?” Liam continued, casting his gaze around the room. “Just making ourselves feel less guilty.”

Louis shrugged. “If it’s working, I guess.

“I mean—I _am_ sorry, for being too defensive of you and not actually paying attention to, like, you getting triggered. I’m sorry, genuinely.”

Louis snorted. “It is a bit absurd here, though, isn’t it? Feels like I’m on my deathbed and you’ve come to atone. Pay respects, before I’m shuffled off into doctor-assisted suicide? Humanely euthanized?” He laughed loudly, then, tipping his head back against his chair. Hysterical giggles caught in his throat, eventually ripped out of him when he caught the incredulous look Zayn was giving him.

“Got a bit of a point,” Niall conceded. “Can I get sommat stronger than tea too, mate?”

“Lager’s in the fridge. Help yourself.” He raised a brow at Zayn. “Some people have manners.”

“Cut the antagonism, _please,”_ Harry murmured, ruffling his fringe.

“Pigtail-puller, through and through.” Louis smirked. “S’my house, I can technically do whatever I please. But I don’t have to make you stick around, I guess.” And there was his life full-circle. He could be a dick and force everyone out, but he couldn’t make anyone stay. Except Zayn. Sort of. Against his own best will.

Harry looked pained, pressing his lips into a thin line. “You can do better than talking out your arse, Lou.”

“Oh? Can I? Gonna fix me? Christ, H, this is old hat. I swear. Love you to death but I hope to hell you love yourself even more.”

Harry sniffed, slowly nodding. “Okay, now I’m kind of siding with Z.”

“Babe, I just mean—stop trying to convince me I’m special or some shit! Just go live your life. Don’t try to fix me to ease your own mind, to make a difference on the world. I’m fucked, so go live your life, okay? You’re great on your own. Totally fine. Leave me be.”

“Fuck you,” Harry whispered, eyes bright and slightly wet. “Just—fuck you.”

“You’re too pretty and talented to martyr yourself. Especially for me. I’m going nowhere and I’m just wasting my potential on failed GCSEs and baggies of coke. Oh wait.” He shot Zayn a pointed glance. “The coke bit is you.”

“Whatever. I thought this intervention was for you.” Zayn clenched his jaw.

Louis shook his head. “I have no clue what you’re intervening _on._ You have goals and I have a belly full of vodka and a three-day hangover. End of.”

“You’ve got people who love you, and smarts, and a good bullshite detector,” Niall pointed out with a shrug—and, since Louis only barely doubted Niall’s motives, he only sighed once.

“Plus, the cheekbones!” Harry brightened slightly, before slumping back down into his seat. He hummed once, eyes shuttering a bit as he sighed.

“And the voice, bro. Maybe you can become a phone-sex operator?” Liam muttered, voice rough.

“Yeah, fellas, who wouldn’t want to shackle themselves to me?” Louis agreed, slack-backed.

Zayn snorted, his cheeks a lightly pink.

“I’m sorry, or should I say _tie me down?”_ Louis paused. _“Again.”_

“Gross. I’m tapping out before this becomes an orgy. Ta for the beer. Lou, I love you, and you’re a dumb, beautiful motherfucker. H, I’ll be in the car.” Niall sighed, finishing off his drink before heaving himself to his feet.

“Ni? You drove me here, are you sure you’re good to—” Harry stumbled upwards, brows narrowed like a worried parent.

“Please. I’m Irish. This is basically breakfast.” He left the room in a faux-frustrated huff.

Harry moved to Louis’ shoulder and squeezed it very, very gently. “This isn’t over, but I—do gotta go. Family stuff in a bit, but just—take care of yourself, babe.”

“You too, love.” Louis set his palm on top of Harry’s hand. “Now get out, kid, you got shit to do with your life. Go beautify the environment. Clean up a park. Save a kitten from drowning. Don’t come back til you’re not pulling a miserable face, please. I’m fine.”

“You know you’re not fine.”

“Fine enough.”

Harry vacated slowly, dragging his feet until eventually Louis was alone with Liam and Zayn. “Lovely. Lingering worries? Threats? Concerns? How can I help?”

“Don’t do this,” Zayn pleaded quietly, eyes wide, serious.

“Do what?”

“Be a prick.”

“What else would you have me do? Breaking down doesn’t suit, so what shall I do? Fling myself into the sea?”

“Don’t you _dare,”_ Liam growled, slamming his palm onto the tabletop, finally showing anger. “Swear to god.”

“Don’t know if I believe in god,” Louis murmured, standing to get himself a glass of wine.

Zayn snorted. “’S’not, like, compulsory.”

“But apparently constant bullshit is, yeah? Christ, Z, as if you _care_ about me.”

Zayn dumped his bottle back onto the table. “Fuck,” he sighed, getting to his feet and marching to Louis. “I _do.”_ He bit his bottom lip, eyes falling shut. “I _do.”_

“Don’t act it, do you?”

“This—this is it, it’s our thing, innit, bebs?? Pigtail pullers, us two. Making each other into better versions of ourselves through badgering.”

“I’m no _better.”_

“Aren’t you?”

_“You’re_ no better!”

Zayn exhaled slowly. “Aren’t I?”

Louis rounded on Liam and crossed his arms. “And you? Your activity in all this?”

“I just love you like mad. I’ll defend you to the death, and I’m sorry if I hurt you.” Liam set his jaw, face still.

“You didn’t—Christ, you didn’t _hurt_ me. How could you possibly _add_ to my hurt, at this point?” Louis pursed his lips and heaved a breath out and in. “Fuck all. I have a great well of sadness, just—just below the surface, just under. Right there.” He hit his chest once. “Sadness and fury, yeah? And I can’t make it go away. What do I do with that? How do I get it to—drift away? Like a skiff or some shit, moving away on the slightest breeze. It’s _entrenched_ in me. The only thing I can manage to do is to—what, drown it in poison? Try not to let it breathe? Try not to let it catch aflame? None of it’s bloody working. I pick my cuticles raw and bite away at my liver and it’s doing no fucking good. Any of it. I can’t—can’t keep going like this. Fucking _something_ has to give way, now.”

“I just—fuck.” Zayn rubbed his jaw harshly. “Just give me a minute.” He stalked into the corridor, leaving Liam and Louis alone.

Liam inhaled sharply. “I have a—a memory? Like Easter when I was maybe eight or something. One of those proselytizing types, singing, like, _my god, my god, why have you forsaken me?_ Again and again.”

Louis snorted. “Fun, sure, glad you’re coping by turning to prayer.”

“Shit, no—I just, I’ve forsaken you,” he said slowly, as though testing the words out on his tongue.

“Don’t be so self-indulgent, Christ.”

“No! I have! I got blind-sided by my wants, my own wishes. Ignored what was really best for the two of us, in favour of what we wanted to be best.”

Louis ran his tongue over this top teeth, considering. “Us.”

Liam nodded. “Us.”

“Shit.”

“We, like.” Liam shot Louis a sad glance. “We have an expiration date. Don’t we? You and me.”

“Yeah. We do.”

“Fuck, Lou.”

“It’s for the best, you know. For your sake, even more than mine. Seriously.”

“I don’t like being told that. Don’t like being told what’s in my best interest.”

“Yeah, I gathered.” Louis rolled his eyes. “Otherwise you’d never have even approached me, innit. Knowing what’s in your best interest and all.”

“That’s not _true!_ Z wasn’t totally full of shit before, you know. We do bring out some good things in each other, don’t we?”

“Can’t imagine what you’re talking about.”

“You made me fight for you. I need—needed that, to stick up for myself and for someone. To prove I was worth a damn, I guess. Didn’t do it just for you, but you were wrapped up in all that. I fought for myself because you kind of, you know. Kicked my arse into gear.”

Louis snorted. “Hardly.”

“You as much as anyone.”

“Bullshit. You did it for you, fought for yourself and for your own dignity. And that’s good, you know? If you’d actually called the police on your dad just because I told you to, or whatever, I’d have worried about your sanity.”

“You worry about my sanity anyway.”

“Never have done,” Louis said loftily, sticking his nose in the air.

“But that’s—not what I meant, actually. I meant that you, like, made me put words to my feelings and not just roll with the unspoken, as if it was good enough. You made me put words to my intentions, I guess. Made me figure out what the fuck I really wanted.”

“Which is?”

“A happier version of whatever we were. Committed, complicated, passionate.” Liam scrubbed a hand over his face. “Before you, I, uh. Everyone thought I was boring. Probably because I thought I was, you know? I could do the fake confidence thing, eventually, because of boxing and, like, girls thinking I was fit, but no one really listened to me, until you.”

“Not even Zayn?”

Liam seemed to consider this. “I mean. Maybe he did. But I didn’t take it seriously. Didn’t take anyone’s interest in me seriously until I realized how much I wanted it. You, specifically. Wanted your committed interest.”

Louis sighed quietly, “I’m sorry we didn’t work out, then.”

“Yeah. Me too. Love you anyway, though.” Liam smiled ruefully.

Louis gave him a hard grin. “You’re realistically, probably, the most genuinely good person I’ve ever met.”

“Can’t have met very many people, then.” Liam’s brows rose a bit, his forehead creasing.

Louis shook his head. “I’ve met loads. You’re the tops, and I won’t hear you say otherwise. Not when you’ve just voiced this epiphany about your self-worth and all.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit,” Liam replied, humour colouring his voice. “It’s not all down to you.”

“You’re worth all that shit, you know. And I think you’ll find what you’re looking for. Maybe after uni or whatever. Might have to stop chasing after broken boys, but. You know.” Louis bit down hard on the inside of his cheek, forcing back the warmth in his eyes.

“But, you know,” Liam said slowly, kindly. “You know. Maybe not.”

***  
Louis played good host like he wasn’t fucking exhausted, like he wasn’t backsliding away from being _actually sort of maybe okay_ and into _still just that stupid little fuck-up._ He felt like he was a step away from a panic attack, that someone breathing on him wrong could send him over the edge.

He told Liam as much, just once, hand tight on Liam’s wrist, eyes wide. Liam fetched him a glass of water and a B12 vitamin for no reason Louis could ascertain. And then he bodily pulled Zayn from the house, throwing Louis a guarded glance.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow. The lot of us. Yeah?” he asked, hand on the front door.

“Sure. I just need a decent night’s sleep, reckon.”

“Right as rain,” Zayn agreed, jaw set on-edge like he wasn’t inexplicably furious.

***

“Morning, love!” Louis’ mum called out, throwing open the door to his bedroom. He really ought to have locked it, but he supposed he had worried her enough for the week. He hardly needed her banging about outside his bedroom, worried he’d drowned himself in the bath overnight. “Two of your lads are back, wanting to go on a run with you. Up you get.”

“I threatened Liam with death if he tried to make me run again.”

“Doesn’t look like he took you seriously. Exercise will do you good. Up!” She threw off his duvet, making him writhe futilely.

“Mum, take pity on me. I’m your eldest, aren’t you meant to love me most?”

“As my eldest, you are meant to set a good example for the younger ones. Heart health and all that. Get the toxins out of your system.”

Louis sighed loudly and got to his feet, lurching into the en-suite to brush his teeth and piss. “I’ll go, but I won’t go happily.”

“Then you will be true to yourself. We’ll do a curry for lunch when you’re back, yeah?” She swept her way across his room, kicking at a pile of his dirty laundry

“Uh.” Louis spat into the sink. “Let someone else cook it, maybe?”

“I resent that!”

“We have a cook for a reason!” Louis sighed, working his way into workout clothes reluctantly. He traipsed down the stairs and rolled his eyes at the sight of Liam and Niall—the former of whom looked set for a boxing match in loose grey sweats and a sleeveless oversized vest, the latter in stupid shorts, a hoodie, and two knee braces.

“My loyal exercise buddies, here to pick me up at the arsecrack of dawn.”

“It’s half-ten,” Niall pointed out.

“You tit,” Liam added helpfully, leading the way outside.

Louis remained resolutely quiet during their run, Liam taking mercy on him at the one-mile point. He huffed out a loud breath as they stepped back onto his block, his house finally in sight. “That was idiotic. I don’t know why I let you cart me around.”

“Because we’ll have you.”

***

Louis looked at his quiff in the mirror and sighed, pursing his lips. “Why doesn’t this look right?”

“Because you’re in a pissy mood and nothing looks right,” Liam ventured from his spot on Louis’ floor, where he was flicking through comics. “As per.”

“Where are we going, again?” 

“Out,” Niall answered as he continued to rummage through Louis’ closet. “Are all of your clothes—this?” He waved one hand in the closet’s general direction.

“This?”

“Either stupid fancy or stupid casual.”

“Oh, yeah. Then yes.”

“Right.” Niall plunged one hand deep into Louis’ closet, plucking out a top at random. “Can I borrow this?”

“Yeah.”

“Cheers.”

“Guys, you do remember what happened last time we did something like this, right?” Louis sat down across from Liam, grabbing a comic book for himself.

“Sure. Danced with Harry for a bit, got proper wasted. Lad’s all noodle limbs, had to prop him up toward the end there.”

Louis shot him and Liam twin looks, incredulous. “Sure, okay. And then?”

“Then I got a kebab.” Niall pursed his lips slightly.

“Christ, you are literally a parody of yourself.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s been said before.” Niall shucked off his clothes and pulled his borrowed tee, which was on one of Louis’ more _refined_ shirts in that it wasn’t covered in curse words and phalluses. “Look, it’s very unlikely that the thing that happened last time will ever happen again.”

“One in a million.”

“One in a trillion. And I get it, you’ve got every right to be screwed up, but you can’t stop living, can you? You can’t just avoid your friends and pretend it’s for the best. So we’re going out and you’re going to dance like the weird wood nymph you are, and that’s that.”

“I am not a wood nymph!”

“Yeah, and I’m not a leprechaun. Please. Some of us are immune to your absolute shite, you know.”

“Your affection is truly heartwarming.”

Niall sighed loudly, leaning forward to yank on Louis’ loose fringe. “We’re doing this because we love you.” Louis snorted. “Okay, I’m doing this because I love you. Liam is doing this because he likes watching your arse when you dance dirty.”

Something eased, gently, inside Louis’ throat—imperceptibly, probably, or maybe not at all. Maybe it was nothing, just like everything else. Maybe everything was nothing, in the end. He sighed and pressed on, flipping through comics on his bedroom floor like the world wasn’t horrible and dark.

He accepted Niall’s polite offer to go downstairs and get them drinks, which of course got derailed by mangled attempts to flirt with Louis’ mum.

“Get away from her, you weird paddy bastard!” Louis called, thundering down the staircase.

“Nah, s’flattering, innit?” Niall sat on the counter of the kitchen island, his legs swinging easily.

“Flattering and inappropriate, love. Back it up, yeah?” Louis’ mum suggested, one eyebrow cocked high, her hand on her hip as she regarded him from her perch at the sink.

“Yes, ma’am.” Niall threw his hands in the air and jumped down from the island before backing away, summarily knocking his hip into the kitchen table.

“We’re leaving, yeah,” Louis said, rolling his eyes. “C’mon.”

“Don’t drive if you’re drinking!” his mum yelled, a maximum of seven feet away from Louis, weirdly emphatic.

“I—we’re getting a cab, fuck,” Louis muttered, his words a promise.

“If you let my baby boy die, I’ll have your heads, you know!” she continued, as if not having heard Louis’ speech. “I’ve the means.”

Liam blinked repeatedly and licked his lips. “No, ma’am. Under control.”

“Got him in my pocket, haven’t I?” Niall added, poking at Louis’ mum with one elbow. “Promise.”

“Don’t jest,” she snapped, flicking at Niall’s forehead with one finger. “He gets hurt, you die. End of.”

“Um.” 

Liam and Niall stared at Louis’ mum with panicked eyes.

“We’re leaving then, off to dance and do absolutely nothing dangerous!” Louis crowed, scrabbling to collect Liam and Niall’s hands. “If I die you’re not allowed to castrate them, they won’t have deserved it.”

“Likely,” Jay huffed out, rolling her eyes. “You’ve got your mobile?”

“On and charged.” Louis bodily dragged Niall and Liam out of the room and across the foyer, only rounding on them once he was at the door. “Someone did ring for a cab, right?”

**Author's Note:**

> In the continued saga of me being a disaster person I have no idea how to add links, so. HERE HAVE MUSIC
> 
>  
> 
> http://8tracks.com/musiclily88/and-live-a-quiet-life


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